A Personal Reason
by Wolfe Child
Summary: While Harry Potter deals with self-harm and negative thoughts of himself following his godfather's death, the last thing he expects is to run into a particular Slytherin that is dealing with similar issues. Contains Self-Harm, Depression, and Language... ONE-SHOT Companion Piece: "A Personal Savior"


**_AN:_**

 ** _WARNING: This contains mentions of self-harm, depression, cutting, etc. If any of this acts as a trigger for any of you lovely people,_ _please do not read this... But do remember that there is always someone out there who loves you for who you are. If you are currently going through a rough time (Like I have been recently...) (Or even if you are not currently...) Remember that there is always a light at the end of the tunnel, no matter how deep and dark it seems at the time. Also, if you need someone to talk to, feel free to message me._**

 ** _Rated M for strong language as well as those reasons stated above... also because I am paranoid..._**

 ** _So, this is kind of a continuation of a story that I posted about a year and a half ago titled "A Personal Reason". It's not really a continuation actually... more of a rewrite...? Companion piece? I originally wrote this in Draco's perspective, and when I was done I really wanted to write the other side of it, so I did. It has been mostly done for a while, I just have been hesitant to post it, but I finally finished it and felt like I needed to post it. It is about twice as long and describes Harry's experiences before he finds Draco in the bathroom..._**

 ** _You don't need to read "A Personal Reson" first, each story makes sense on its own. All of the dialogue is exactly the same, you just get to see what was going through Harry's head instead of Draco's._**

 ** _I own nothing, sadly, except for the plot._**

~o0o~

Written from Harry's perspective

~o0o~

I slice my wrist with the blade. _Sirius._

The one word repeats itself over and over in my mind.

One more cut. _Sirius._

If only I hadn't been treating occlumency like a burden, a joke. I should have worked harder at keeping my mind shut from Voldemort.

I dig deeper into the skin this time, and the blood comes out quicker. _Sirius._

If only I had stayed at school, let Snape get the order to look in the Department of Mysteries. If only I had trusted that the adults would take care of it. None of this would have happened, and I might still have my godfather.

At this point, any pain would be welcomed, but I had gone numb forever ago. _Sirius._

The one person who seemed to share all of the truth with me. The one person that I could trust to be open with me. The person that I could open up to.

The blood starts to run down the drain with the next cut. _Sirius._

I never should have trusted that filthy, lying traitorous house-elf. If it weren't for his lies, I would have seen Sirius and would have known that he was not in danger.

The blade jerks as someone bangs on the door, telling me to hurry up. _Sirius._

The ghost of his laughter is all that I can think of when I close my eyes. The agony that was reflected in Lupin's eyes being the backdrop to my guilt.

I hear my uncle yell something through the door as I begin to wash the blood down the drain, covering my tracks. _Sirius._

Would my "family" even care? Or would they wish that I cut deeper next time? To relieve them of the burden of "caring" for me.

 _Sirius. Sirius. Sirius._ It plays over and over in my mind as I complete meaningless tasks in the garden, keeping my Aunt's flowers alive and looking good. My finger gets caught on the rose bush, and I look at the blood running down my hand for a second before deciding that I deserve it.

 _Sirius._ Why should I deserve to live, while he died because of my foolishness? I should be the one in the next world, not him. Why should I be here, enjoying life and friendship when I have taken away one of the first friends that Lupin ever had?

 _Sirius._ His name echoes louder in the dark, quiet room and I lay there, resisting sleep, knowing that there are only nightmares to come. But why should I not live them? I succumb to sleep, only to wake up in a cold sweat. My sleep won't even let me suffer properly. _Sirius._

I get a letter from my friends. I ignore it. Why would I deserve to have someone who cares about me? They send another. And another. And another. When the stack on my bedside table gets so high that it falls over when I add the latest letter, I finally read one. They are worried now. They think that something happened to me. That my Aunt and Uncle are locking me up in my room again. They couldn't be any further from the truth. I am locked up inside my own head and have no control over it. I crumple up the parchment, and stuff it under the bed, along with the other, unopened envelopes.

I break out the blade again, this time I cut deeper, and leave more lines on my skin.

 _Sirius._ The next letter I receive almost ends up stuffed under my bed with the others. But it has different handwriting on it. It's Dumbledore. He has grown worried about me and is coming in a day to pick me up. I worry, there will be no way that I will get away with my bad habit if I am to be left at the Weasley's house.

I cut one last time, knowing that Dumbledore will be able to tell if something were going on. I need to use this next day to compose myself. To make it look like I haven't been leaving gashes in my wrist all summer. Who am I kidding? I still look like a train wreak. But the old man doesn't question me. Something that I am grateful for.

We stop somewhere on the way to the Weasley's house, but it is all a blur. I think it had something to do with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, but I am not sure. Before I know it, I am back with my friends, and some of the pain has left. Being with people who do not despise me helps to ease some of my suffering, but he is still on my mind.

 _Sirius._

~o0o~

We catch the Hogwarts Express and are on our way to school. I see more of my friends, and more of the burden is lifted off of my shoulder. He still doesn't leave my mind, though, and I have the sudden urge to cut, I needed the pain to punish myself for such a big mistake. But when I excuse myself, Luna comes with, and somehow knows that something is going on. I confess what I am feeling to her, and she helps ease my mind some, in her own weird way, and I sit back down in the compartment with her and forget about the urge.

But it comes back, two days later, and even stronger. I grab the blade out of my trunk where I left it that night. Before I know it, I am in a deserted bathroom several floors away from the common room, with blood running down my arm again. I allow his name to run through my mind again. _Sirius._

The blade from the razor is no longer enough, won't go deep enough, so one day after potions, I decide to experiment using my potions knife. It _feels_ good. I know I probably shouldn't be doing this, but it feels good. I feel an intense amount of relief as it leaves a slash in my arm. But then I get a feeling of disgust, of shame, at what I have done. I quickly wrap up my arm with a spell that I learned to conjure bandages, and stuff the knife back in my bag, rushing out of the deserted room that I was hiding in.

~o0o~

The next time I felt the urge, I was walking out on the grounds of Hogwarts in between classes all alone, as Ron and Hermione had prefect duties. I remembered the last time that I had yielded to the urge, and tried to ignore the deep desire for the metal against my wrist. Despite all warnings and several personal near death experiences, I wander into the Forbidden Forest in an attempt to clear my mind. After wandering for half an hour, I find myself in a clearing with Luna, who was feeding the thestrals, barefoot, just like the last time I had found her here.

She didn't look up as I walked into the clearing, let alone when several of the skeletal, bat-winged horses turned from her and approached me. She simply said, "Hello Harry," and continued petting the manes of the spectral horses.

"Uh… Hey, Luna…" I said, not sure how to react, especially after the last time that we had really talked. All I can remember is the look of understanding that was in her eyes that afternoon on the train. "I, uh, never thanked you after what you said last time…"

"Oh, don't worry about it. I would do the same again, particularly for a friend."

I let the silence sit between us, not bothered at all by it. It was a comfortable silence, one that is bearable with only the best, most understanding people. We stood there in the chill of the forest for an hour longer, just interacting with the magical creatures around us. By the time we exited the forest together, we had missed dinner and it had started to get dark, casting long, dark shadows along the grounds. We parted ways, without saying another word to one another, yet my heart felt lighter than it had for as long as I can remember. I went back to my dorm feeling better, not feeling the need to cut as bad, and was able to go straight to sleep.

~o0o~

While the urge comes several more times, I do not bend to it. I fight as hard as I can to fight the sudden need, and I win. Slowly, the marks on my wrists start to disappear, the newest ones only being a light red colour.

It was after my last class, and I was on my way to the Great Hall for dinner, when I ducked into the loo to escape a fangirl who was walking past. I was in no mood to talk to her (when am I ever?). As the door swings closed behind me, I realized that I was not the only one in the room. I was about to turn and go without saying anything, when I recognized the movements of someone hiding something in their pocket. Then, the figure starts to wash down the sink he is standing at. I look down into the basin and see pink water. It clicks. I look into the mirror to see if I recognize the person I had walked in on and saw none other than Draco Malfoy.

I was in shock. "Malfoy!?" It's silent for a minute, then the blond is spurred into movement. He tries to get past me, but before he can shove me all the way out of his way, I grab his right arm, purposefully avoiding the one I know must still be bleeding.

I lock my eyes on his, staring into his grey irises, and instantly I see memories run through my mind of how I had felt months ago when I was in the same position. I am sure that all the emotions that I try to keep under the surface, that I try to hide from people like Draco, are coming to the surface for the whole world to see. I'm confused by what I see, but there is also some concern, as I would not wish this even on Draco. _Wait, when did he become_ Draco _in my mind?_ I feel my emotions settle into sympathy and understanding as I start to see what he is going through and what he is feeling now. The self-hatred, the feeling of not being good enough for anyone.

It seems like several hours has passed before he says, "I don't need your pity Potter. Let me go."

"Draco..." There it is again, _Draco_. "This... This is..." I hear my own voice crack as I continue to see myself reflected in my peer. I want to help, but what can I say? What would _I_ have wanted to hear in my lowest moments?

He doesn't let me continue my thought, and instead shoves nauseating words down my throat. "Disgusting? Appalling? Disgraceful? I fucking know. That's why I am doing it. Now, if you would be so courteous as to let go of my arm so I can finish the deed, I would forever be grateful, or at least until my final breaths." His voice is venomous as he tries to yank his arm fee. I hold on tight because I know that if I were to let him go now, I will not be able to reach out to him again.

"No... That's not what I was going to say..."

"Let me guess... Deranged? What I deserve? Again, I know already. That's why I'm doing it for fuck's sake."

"Would you let me finish my bloody sentence!" My outburst surprises even me as I internally cringe at the words that he is flinging at himself. While he may think that they are true, I know that they hurt. As I look into his eyes again, I'm surprised to find Draco Malfoy speechless. "I was going to say that it seemed too familiar for me to see someone else walk down this path!"

He continues to stare at me, then says, "What do you fucking mean familiar. Have you had to talk down the filthy mudblood from the same fate?" At the use of the word mudblood, I almost let go of his arm and leave him to go at it again, but then I remember my own struggles, and how if anyone had tried to stop me from giving myself what I thought that I deserved, I would have lashed out in any way possible in an attempt to get them to back away. I look up at his face and for a split second I see something, a hint of regret spilled across his face, almost too short to recognize.

"No." I know that this is not enough, but I hesitate for a second. Should I open up with my once childhood rival and explain that I was actually thinking of my own struggle? Or should I talk in generic terms so that he has no reason to suspect me of self-harm? As these thoughts pass through my head, I realize that if I were to withhold certain details he would notice and figure it out in the end. So I decide to tell him the whole truth. I let go of his arm and go for my left sleeve. I hesitate for a second more and then as I see the look on his face. "No. I've been there myself." I gain the courage and completely roll up my sleeve, revealing the scars that no one has ever seen before. "Last summer, when my Godfather died, I thought it was my fault, I fell into a long bout of depression. I went home to my Muggle relatives, where I have no one who cares for me. They lock up all my school supplies. I let myself get worse, one day finding my cousin's old disposable razor. I broke it and used the old blades to dig into my skin, relishing in the punishment and the pain of the blade running across my skin. So no, I haven't had to talk a friend down from this type of thing. I've lived it. Talked myself down. Ron and Hermione don't even know..." All of a sudden I realize that I have said so much more than I even intended to reveal to him. For a moment I feel ashamed of letting myself reveal so much. I look up into his face and see a look of complete shock.

His expression actually goes through a wide variety of emotions being betrayed. Eventually, I see tears forming in his eyes and I know that he really needs someone to be there for him, and I instantly regret any negative thoughts I had had of him in the past week. I see the tears start to run down his cheeks and I am surprised. I never thought that Draco Malfoy would ever end up crying in front of anyone, let alone me of all people. I want to comfort someone who was obviously going through a hard time. I could actually see the deep self-hatred that was right under the surface. So I slowly reach out for him in case he wants to refuse any physical support. When he doesn't back away, I wrap my arms around him, not giving a shit if I was getting blood on my robes. I feel him relax into my embrace and notice that he started to rely on my support as his leg had given out. I lower him to the ground and cradle him, doing anything that could possibly be comforting. When he starts to sob into my shoulder I don't quite know what to do, but then I settle on running my fingers through his hair.

After several minutes I hear him start to calm down, when he sits up he wipes the tears from his eyes and looks up at me. Unsure of what to do next, I wait for him to make the next move. I see him struggle with words, most likely to thank me in some way.

"Don't worry about it. It wasn't a big deal." I know that I would have done the same thing for any of my friends and that maybe I didn't hate the blond nearly as much as I thought that I did.

"Yes, it was," I hear him say. "So thank you."

"Do you need to talk about it?" I don't know if he was in a place to share, or if he ever would be, so I didn't press for an information.

"No. It was bad enough thinking it all the first time."

As he walks back to the sink and finishes rinsing out the sink he was standing at earlier, I some how wind up conjuring up bandages and hiding them from prying eyes while telling him, "Fine. But I am open to listen if you need it. No matter what our history says..." I turn around to walk out the door and continue to dinner, when I realize that maybe we both wouldn't have been in this position if I hadn't rejected his friendship five years ago. (Hermione might call it my hero complex, but I thought that maybe if I had just accepted his offer of friendship we might have changed each other's views and lives that we wouldn't have been put in this position. Maybe the thoughts that we had both been thinking would have been avoided all together.)

"I'm sorry Draco, for not taking your hand in first year. I have regretted it ever since..." It is barely over a whisper, and I am not sure that he even heard me, but it felt good to just get off of my chest. I pushed open the door and left him to his thoughts, hoping that he would take up my offer sometime in the near future.


End file.
